


Sink Deep

by MercySewerPyro



Series: A Thousand Painted Teeth [10]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Force-Sensitive Clones (Star Wars), Gen, Mental Link
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24184870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercySewerPyro/pseuds/MercySewerPyro
Summary: The Separatists have come to Kamino, and only Colt stands between Ventress and Jango Fett's DNA.Colt, and the seeping black.
Series: A Thousand Painted Teeth [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1728298
Comments: 24
Kudos: 104





	Sink Deep

_ “The sterile white is a lie: Kaminoan culture is something born out of death and fear, and the willingness to cut away everything useless out of themselves. The problem with uselessness is that everything could be given a purpose: they are near-careless with the lives they create, but they hoard the things that made them with an obsessive edge. _

_ Why throw away the DNA that ensures their continued existence?” _

* * *

The city was screaming. Rage and pain in equal measure coursed like fire through the link, a  _ ‘how dare they come here’ _ intertwined with the too-familiar feeling of the lights of siblings suddenly sputtering and dying. The enemy was here, and Colt would have given his left lung for the Nulls to be here with them. Even more of the Alphas would have been great- But only four out of a hundred were present. Him, Blitz, Havoc, Hammer, and more shinies than he would like, against Force knew how many battle droids.

Their brothers were dying, and here Colt was, running away from the battle.

At least, that’s what it felt like. In reality, the  _ fear-alarm-pain _ of his younger brothers deeper within the city had drawn him away from the front lines, chasing after-images of those  _ hut’uun _ bastards Grievous and Ventress. Hopefully, he’d be able to link up with the  _ vod’alor _ and set up a better inner defence; even with Cody being one of the lucky ones, they both knew they couldn’t take those two down alone.

Though, they might just have to. There weren’t enough of them inside the city, behind the front lines; even the Jedi were preoccupied. Just the cadets, a few of the 501st- And of course, the  _ vod’alor. _ Colt just prayed it wouldn’t come down to that.

But all plans were halted when he skidded around a corner, only to find a hallway full of clankers. Cursing, he ducked under the first volley of fire and rolled, blasters up and shooting before he’d even fully finished. There were far too many of them, but- He just had to get through, carving a path between with as much aggression as he dared, sending off a brief pulse informing the  _ vod’alor _ of the hold-up. For any other trooper, there might have been far too many of the damn droids. But Colt was an  _ ARC, _ Alpha-45, and he wouldn’t lose to a bunch of tin cans with the combined intellect of a toaster.

Now, Colt wasn’t one of the lucky ones. He didn’t have the same gifts Cody and a number of their brothers did. But here, in this world, he had been given warning: brothers had already died to Ventress’ blades, their last acts to chart her placement in their home. Colt knew where she was, knew she was close.

So when the assassin did her best to sneak up on him, he heard her. He turned in a snap, firing off a shot she had to deflect, then another- She snarled at him, sharp and feral, and Colt only let a furious rumble burst out of him, from deep in his chest. The sound was low and predatory, more felt than heard, a sound clones didn’t make often; it had come in with their teeth, and to hear it was to know that the clones were predators in their own right.

Against a Sith, even one in half measures like this assassin, it wouldn’t be enough. But it caught her off guard long enough for him to take another shot, another and another. Of course she deflected, but he was making his way around her as she did, keeping her on the defensive as he repositioned. Fighting her on his own here would be suicide, and he owed it to all his siblings to stay alive.

Something she obviously knew. A hand thrown out, and Colt finds himself flying, hitting the far wall, helmet nearly dislodged. He’d barely had enough time to brace for impact. He fires off another shot, but he’s lost one of his blasters, scrambling away from her as she approaches him, proud and ready for the kill.

She reaches a hand out towards him again-

And Colt, on both impulse and the realization another use of the Force will mean his death, throws his remaining blaster at her face. In the time she takes to instead slide it into two and push it aside, he’s on his feet and running. There’s an apology pressed Cody’s way, a flash of Ventress’ location. If he dies here, he doesn’t want it to be for nothing.

For a moment, he’s surprised she doesn’t immediately give chase. But then there’s arguing in the distance, her cold voice and Grievous' rough one, both harsh and angry. He does what he can with the head start; he can’t lead them  _ both _ to Cody, not now, but he still needs to muster a defence. But as he hears his pursuers pick up the chase once more, he realizes they’ve split up. Grievous is going for the barracks it seems, towards Cody, Rex, and the Dominoes, and Colt relays that to the  _ vod’alor _ accordingly.

But where is Ventress going? For a moment, it seemed like she was going to follow him, to cut him down. But the sounds of her movement, enhanced by his helmet, now move away from him. Heading towards…

The DNA samples.

She’s going to take what’s left of their progenitor and  _ destroy it. _

Rage boils up within Colt at the realization, fury he’s not felt in a long time. It’s bad enough she hurts his siblings, tortures his brothers and invades their minds. But to take all that was left of what was the closest thing Colt had to a  _ father? _

He turns, abruptly changing his course; he knows a way to the same room, faster than the one she’s taken. It’ll go through an archive of DNA no longer needed, and it’s really only known to those few clones who the Jedi have shuttled off to maintenance tasks- Which means this Seppie bitch won’t know about it at all.

It’s stupid, Colt knows. Foolish to think he could fight her alone when he was willing to run just a second before. But brothers are reporting that Kenobi and Skywalker are coming, and his instinct tells him this is the best option he has available. He just needs to stall. To give the Jedi just a little more time. He whispers another apology, this time to the open air, and starts running.

He’s never seen the place himself, but the things 99 has shared with him now guide his steps, through hallways to a doorway lying locked. The code shouldn’t be his to know, but he’s known everything about his city for a long time now, and he enters it with ease. Inside is quiet, a counterpoint to the roaring chaos still happening at the front lines. Rows and rows of sterile white shelves, encased in clear plastiglass. It’s cold in here, and colder inside those cabinets, everything chilled for perfect preservation. But despite all the tubes and the labels, Colt’s gaze slides past them, and rests only on what lies in the very center of the room, between him and the exit on the other side. Between him and the room that contains Jango’s DNA.

It’s a monolith, a box. Cold, unmarked metal, so tall as to nearly scrape the ceiling, so wide as to only allow a small corridor of passage on either side. Judging by the console near him, usually it would be sunk into the floor, but other than that it’s almost unremarkable. Except, Colt can’t tear his gaze away from it.

He approaches carefully, reaching a hand out to run fingers along the cool metal. There’s a way to open it, probably, but- Likely gene-locked. And Colt needs to move on. He has a job to do. Yet still, something draws him here, beckons him to linger, even as he shivers. There’s a feeling there; for the briefest of moments it smells like death in the air, and the cold and the quiet press in like the inside of a tomb.

But the spell is broken by cruel laughter, the sound of lightsabers igniting. Colt whirls around, and there she is: Ventress, blades drawn, having caught him unawares. “Nowhere to hide now, clone. Led me right to your progenitor, haven’t you?” Her voice drips with patronization and false kindness, and the rage in his veins that had subsided comes back to a boil.

He rumbles, loud and savage. The lights flicker above him, and he hopes the fighting outside doesn’t knock out the power entirely. He’s afraid - who wouldn’t be, facing down the one who’s slaughtered his brethren? - but stands firm, anger making him brave. “This is where you turn back, Ventress. You go no further.”

She laughs again, “And you’ll stop me? With  _ what? _ Your blasters are gone, clone. What is there you could defeat me with?”

Colt grits his teeth. Unfortunately, she’s right; there’s no weapons here, nothing to fight with except his fists and his wits. Even the possibility of stalling her seems far away, unachievable. But he tenses all the same, ready for a brawl, the rage inside him all teeth and claws. He can’t go down without a fight, even practically pressed with his back to the cold metal box.

Something drips onto him from the top of the box, and the lights flicker again. Somehow, things smell like death again, both fresh and long dead. He takes in a deep breath, inhaling the ash that doesn’t exist, and glares her down. Dares, “Put your credits where your mouth is,  _ demagolka _ .”

It’s no surprise that she moves first, snarling as she brings both sabers down on him, just as he ducks and rolls, trying to headbutt her in the side. She rolls with it, moving away, flicking her hand and the Force out to slam him against the box. Just like the hallway. Another spatter of something drops onto him from it, a second slow drip to join the first as he tries to scramble back to his feet. As her hand clenches, and his breath is stolen from him.

She yanks him into the air, a puppet on her strings, as he struggles like a dying fish, clawing at a hand not there. Gasping for breath as she approaches him like a nexu sizing up its prey. Like she’s already won. “Oh, you tried  _ so _ hard… Too bad.”

He knows what’s coming next. Her blade, or she’ll crush his windpipe with a thought. But despite everything, all he feels is angry, all he feels is the urge to  _ tear her open. _ His brothers are still dying over and over in the back of his head, his to protect, and he wants nothing better than to hook claws into her and rip her to shreds. A thousand painted teeth, and she deserves to be impaled by  _ every single one. _

Something else spatters onto him, black and staining, and the witch finally notices. Frowns, looking at where a seam seeps with something like tar, oozing down to spatter another time onto armour that should be red and white. “What is-”

Colt’s anger is already boiling, already seething, unable to stop himself from sinking deep into his rage. Hanging there, trying just to breathe, and he wants nothing better than to tear apart the entire Separatist army with his  _ bare hands. _ Heat always seeks an outlet, and this one is no different.

Above him, the black bubbles dangerously.

Then the lights go out, and they drown in the darkness.

* * *

Colt’s dead.

Cody had felt it far too strongly, leaving him staggering and gasping, effecting him like no death had before. Colt had flared like a beacon in their web, an inferno, a supernova of protective fury- And then the darkness had swallowed him up, a black hole devouring a star. Usually, it was a winking out, a star falling from the sky- Not whatever  _ that _ had been. Stranger still, he can still follow the lines to where Colt should be, the link to him preserved while the individual isn’t.

Even now, after the battle with Rex supporting him, he can barely focus. It’s his fault for pressing too close to Colt in his effort to figure out what was happening, but it doesn’t mean he’s disassociating any less. The three remaining ARCs are talking to Domino, commending the squad on their ingenuity during the fight, but Cody can barely puzzle out the words.

Both Ventress and Grievous escaped, though the former had been bleeding heavily from a wound - one a Jedi  _ certainly _ hadn’t left - when she had evaded Skywalker and made her escape. But their home is safe. She didn’t steal their progenitor’s DNA, hadn’t even laid her hands on it when Skywalker confronted her in the holding chamber; Cody guesses they can thank Colt for that.

He steps up, only wobbling a little before a 501st shiny comes to his side to support him. He flashes a spark of irritation her way, but she only laughs as he leans into her regardless.

_ ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got you alor.’ _

__

_ ‘I don’t need the help, but thanks.’ _

He gets the distinct feeling she’s playfully rolling her eyes at him under her helmet. _ ‘My name’s Sparky.’ _

Cody presses a burst of exhausted sibling affection Sparky’s way, then asks, _‘Sparky, can you get us through to the DNA chambers? I just…’_ He lets the tired ache of grief speak for itself. Colt was a good man, someone he trusted with his life, and Cody can’t bear to not see his brother again. Even if it burns Colt’s dead body into his memories forever, he needs to confirm it for himself.

Force, he wished Ordo was here. Even if only to lean on. He doesn’t dare cast his mind out for the Null though, not now; most of the six are engaged in a sensitive undercover mission, and Cody doesn’t want to distract him.

But Sparky nods, and starts leading the Marshal Commander on towards where Colt had met his end.

Even here, in the heart of their home, still lies the after-battle stillness and the smell of death. As they near the DNA archives, Cody grimaces at the streaks of blood on the floor, likely left by a wounded Ventress. Colt will be somewhere here, at this opposite end to where Skywalker entered. The dread, the tension of waiting, coils in Cody’s gut. He knows what he’ll find, but still hesitates to see it.

Sparky presses comfort to him, an offer to lean on her mentally as well as physically, and Cody sighs and accepts. They can shoulder the burden together. What would he do without his siblings offering these things so readily?

The closer they get, the more viciously torn up the area gets. Large gouges litter the floor and walls, likely left by Ventress’ blade, lights are smashed, and the ground is stained… Black, here and there. In comparison, the door to the DNA archive is practically pristine and its contents perfectly illuminated, as is the large box in the center that Cody and Sparky can’t help but stare at for a moment.

Only to be distracted by a hacking, shuddering cough, turning into a horrible-sounding retching. Cody moves forward, confusion blooming, only to suddenly stumble to a stop. Like a low, gutted flame, a weak light has crept into being at the edges of his senses. Another cough, the sound of something wet hitting the floor, and it glows brighter in the link, a bright Colt red.

Colt’s alive.

Colt’s  _ alive. _

He pulls away from Sparky, ignoring her protests as he breaks into a near-run, turning the corner around the monolith in the center of the room to find Colt, helmet missing, huddled against its side. His light in the web is a dying spark, struggling for life as he heaves again- Throwing up as Cody reaches him, rubbing his back. “It’s okay vod, I’m here. I’m here.”

Colt’s injured. There’s lightsaber scars across his armour, some deep and vicious; if it hadn’t cauterized the wound, Cody was sure Colt would have bled out before they found him. As it is, it’s a miracle he’s even awake. “Colt, what  _ happened?”  _ _ ‘I need a medic in the DNA archive ASAP!’_

Colt just shook his head, eyes dazed and glassy. When Cody reached for his mind, supporting that gutted flame with his own, he couldn’t help but recoil at the gaping hole he found. Whatever had happened had  _ cut out _ the experience of it in Colt’s mind, leaving only a haze of red-hot anger and a black void. Clearly Colt had been the one to injure Ventress, but… What had happened here, for the ARC to not remember it?

Cody held Colt close to him, holding onto him both mentally and physically with his own fierce protectiveness. They would find out the answers later. For now, his brother needed him.

For now, he wouldn’t notice how the black faded away to nothing.

* * *

_ “You don’t understand Ladon. I  _ felt _ it, we all did. _

_ The Seventh is **alive**.” _

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my friend AlleyAlbatross for the name/character of Sparky!
> 
> And don't worry everybody; Colt will be [fine.](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/276769648060661760/710596999057113099/Colt_ATPT.png)
> 
> hut'uun - coward  
> vod'alor - sibling-leader  
> demagolka - someone who commits atrocities, war criminal


End file.
